


Stitch by Stitch

by orphan_account



Series: Neptune - Sleeping at Last // Song Inspired Series [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/M, No Smut, No Spoilers, One Shot, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8370301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One shot inspired by the song Neptune by Sleeping at Last, in which a devoted Ushijima angsts over his long-term relationship with unfaithful reader.---------His breath stuck in his chest, clinging as he recognized the deep voice accompanying yours in a resonant song.  A tune which made his throat constrict, bunching up into the back of his ears and twisting his brow in a fearful pose.  If he had been paying attention, he would have tasted the acrid bile edging on his tongue, but the dread stabbed too accurately at his chest.  A stitch pulled viciously from his reality.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Series theme is "I want to love you, but I don't know how."
> 
> Here is a link to the song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jI71QpD4Ma8

 

 

 

 

_Stitch by stitch I tear apart._

_If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy._

_Thread by thread I come apart._

_If brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece_

 

* * *

 

Ushijima inhaled the frigid air, forcing his scarf to grip more tightly around his neck where it pulsed uncomfortably against his carotid.  His heart was pounding after his sprint up the 12 flights of stairs which led to your apartment on the 6th floor.

 

_One._

  

_Two_

  

_Three._

  

He counted the puffs of warm breath rushed away on the harsh wind.  The blood whooshing through his ears slowed as he lifted his left hand in the shape of fist.  The heart of his hand hit the flat surface of your door with a dull thud.  He winced, a sharp chip of cerulean veneer embedded in his skin.

The blue paint, which once gleamed in the afternoon sun, hung in large, curling strips catching the fading daylight in shattered patches.  Ushijima could hear bubbly laughter from behind the decrepit barrier.

His breath stuck in his chest, clinging as he recognized the deep voice accompanying yours in a resonant song.  A tune which made his throat constrict, bunching up into the back of his ears and twisting his brow in a fearful pose.  If he had been paying attention, he would have tasted the acrid bile edging on his tongue, but the dread stabbed too accurately at his chest.  A stitch pulled viciously from his reality.

He raised his hand again staring at the blue chip pilled in his skin before tearing it away and knocking on your door again.  The ace heard movement from somewhere inside your apartment, your shoes clacking on the tiles as you called out an excited, "Who is it?"

"It's me."  Ushijima's voice sounded calm and even. Underneath it all, he was a wreck.  He knew the voice of the man inside your apartment, knew who you had been texting in your free time, who you looked forward to seeing.  Ushijima trusted you, felt you were the only one who could truly understand him, help him achieve all of his dreams, but could also unravel him.

The faded azure blockade released.  He felt the faintest amount of joy well up within him, mostly against his will, before your eyes locked onto his.  He did not miss the falter in your smile.

"Oh, is it that time already?"  The icy tickle crept back up his spine, snapping the next precious stitch along with it.  As Oikawa appeared behind you, his clothing oddly askew under his coat.  "Tooru was just leaving.  I'm almost ready."

Ushijima's feet took root to the piece of floor below him.

Time stilled. 

Oikawa strode toward the doorframe, his smile genuine, fake, and contemptuous all at once.  Ushijima noticed the slightly damp ends of his wavy hair as Oikawa scrunched up his nose, "Hey, Ushiwaka!"

With one foot out the door and the other still firmly in your apartment, the setter rotated his body back toward you, obscuring Ushijima's view of you.  Oikawa's voice dropped an entire octave as he practically purred, "See you later."

Bodies shifted in time for Ushijima to catch a glorious smile light up your face, tearing at the seams of his restraint.  As the setter turned back to leave, a glare dirtied his too pretty features in a silent message.  _Just go away already!  I make her happy._   

Ushijima's shoulders quaked as Oikawa slipped past him. The wing spiker could not stop his head from turning to watch the man begrudgingly sling a sports bag over his shoulder.  Ushijima felt another pull on his heart.  The threads connecting him to you tightened painfully. His eyes averted themselves, trying not register your slightly mussed hair.  He knew the type of blush which bloomed across your face, used to cause it himself when your relationship was still budding.

He was not sure when it started, but was aware you'd been in contact with the ex-captain for the past few months.  He was not sure what you saw in Oikawa, not sure what it was Oikawa gave you that he himself could not.  The thought ripped at his heart, like a sharp talon squeezing slowly, the pressure building until he thought it could crush no more, only to clutch even more tenderly at the bloody shambles.  He wanted to be your entire universe, but for some reason he couldn't.  Bringing a hand to sort through his hair in an uncharacteristic show of nerves, a drop of blood pattered softly against his warmup jacket down from the cut the paint shard left behind, quickly soaking into the white fabric, marring it.  

Teeth dug into his lower lip cold from the winter air and nearly chapped.  There was no denying it this time the texting, messy hair, your divided attention, and yet he could not bring himself to utter the words aloud in his mind.  It would only solidify the destruction he was ignoring existed. The remaining fabric holding you together strained within him.  The seams burst and knit back together just to rip anew until he couldn't sort the old string from the new within the knotted jumble of threads.  He denied himself over and over.

_I love her._

_I can forgive her._

It would hurt less to stay stitched to this relationship never moving forward than to cut ties and lead a life far from your dishonesty.  The reasoning didn't sound right in his own mind. He knew so, knew he was broken and would be more so without you.  Which is why when you returned to the door with your hair freshly tidied, bundled in your black coat, he smiled back at you, crushing your hand to his as you walked off next to him, shoes clacking as they had on your tile floor.  
_I won't ask about it ever._ The maze of fabric remained in its chaotic state of frayed edges, tangles, and patches pulling him in to its beauty.

Your mind swirled. _Phew! That was a close one.  I'll stop this time for sure,_ a halfhearted thought, perhaps an outright lie.

Ushijima embraced the jaggedness of the once flawless red string of fate.  One day, he would fill the deficiencies Oikawa filled, re-knit the fabric holding you two together.  A new resolve rose up within him as he embraced the brokenness.

What he hadn't expected was the emptiness that followed, hollow and painful in it's vastness.

He deluded himself all the same.

Maybe one day you would truly love him back.


End file.
